Knight or Never
by Eternity Locket
Summary: Kiku Honda is an extremely shy mangaka who dedicates his life to creating his obscure 'masterpiece'. He has no idea how reading his work impacts the lives of his few fans, whether they are reading for escapism, help or fun. Kiku hates relying on others, but with his career in jeopardy, can he turn to his followers for help? Can they help him in other ways too? UsUK, LietPol
1. The Best Undiscovered Work of Literature

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

The latest volume of _Knight or Never _had been on the shelf, in the biggest bookshop in the city, for exactly two minutes before an eager hand reached out and grabbed it. Alfred's bespectacled eyes gleamed as he flipped through the pages with his thumb whilst digging into his pocket for some change with his free hand. A shop assistant frowned at him, implicitly asking whether Alfred was going to pay for the book. Alfred on the other hand had more pressing questions to find the answer to. Such as whether Sir Tobias Gallant and his reluctant sidekick Prince Quentin would survive the attack of the demon rabbits.

Feeling like the right thing to do would be to pay for the book before finding out, Alfred jingled his change. But before he turned towards the counter, he paused for a moment before picking up Volume 1 of _Knight or Never, _the only other book of the series on the shelf, as well. The new guy behind the till gave Alfred a friendly smile before picking up his purchase with a quizzical look on his face. "Not _Captain America_ today, huh?"

"I read other things besides comics, you know," Alfred said proudly.

Well, manga was only one small step away from comic books, but the till guy was not going to press the point. He placed both books into a paper bag before handing them to Alfred, who practically danced out the door.

* * *

><p>"Hey Artie!" Alfred sang, a massive grin on his face as he found his friend on a park bench. There were three main ways to spot Arthur in a crowded park full of young men with blond hair. One way was to scan around for the person with astonishingly huge eyebrows. Another was to look for the person who wore knitwear and Union Jack t-shirts. The other way was to see who was sitting alone.<p>

The young Englishman looked up from his doorstopper of a book with an annoyed expression. "You're ten minutes late. Furthermore, my name is ARTHUR, for the ten-thousandth time."

"I know, I know, sorry!"

Arthur tutted as he looked down at one of the two plastic cups on the bench beside him. "I got you a nice cup of coffee too, but now it's gone cold," he sighed.

"You bought me coffee? Dude, that is sweet."

"I'm certainly not sweet," was Arthur's reply, but the way the frown-lines on his forehead faded indicated that he was slightly mollified.

Alfred sat down beside him. "What's wrong with Artie? It's a friendly nickname. 'Cause, y'know, we're friends?"

"Well, thank you, I suppose. But what if I don't want a friendly nickname?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Man, you're just like this dude from this series I've been following."

"You've said that before! Stop comparing me to people I don't know. I don't know whether you're complimenting me or insulting me," Arthur said indignantly. After a pause, he asked, "What series are you following?"

An uncontrollable grin spread across Alfred's face. "You're about to find out! I have a present for you, buddy!" The look of surprised pleasure and curiosity on Arthur's face gave Alfred a warm feeling, and naturally along with it, a temporary ego boost. "Presenting…" he enthused, slowly taking the first volume of _Knight or Never_ out of his bag for dramatic effect. "…The best undiscovered work of literature to emerge in the modern era! I present you with-"

"If that was your attempt at an English accent, I am mortified on your behalf!" Arthur huffed.

"Dude, don't interrupt! **I present you with-**"

"At this volume, you're presenting the whole park with whatever this is," Arthur mumbled, looking around nervously at all the people staring at them disapprovingly, several of whom Arthur would have to talk to later.

Alfred ignored him, pounding his left hand on the wooden bench in a drumroll effect. "Ta-Da! _Knight or Never!_" he sang, revealing the book and waving it in front of Arthur.

"Huh." Arthur took the volume in his hands, looking at the front cover. Alfred scooted closer to him to look over his shoulder and was surprised when Arthur didn't move away from him. Arthur ran his index finger along the spine. "Has this been bound the wrong way?"

"No, they bind books in reverse in Japan. Cool, huh?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Japanese, hmm? I thought you were an all-American chap? At least that's what you said when I invited you to have tea and scones with me the other day."

Alfred laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Let's just say I had other reasons for saying no that day." Arthur's favourite scones made Alfred turn a little green just thinking about them, with their charred edges and underbaked insides that stuck in Alfred's throat. As it looked like it was starting to dawn on Arthur what said reasons were, Alfred quickly steered the focus back on the book. "Look, look at all the pictures on the covers, Artie! They're pretty neat, right?"

"You talk to me as if I'm five," said Arthur, frowning. However, his eyes were pinned on the book, his expression curious. "So what is this about? The blurb doesn't give much away."

Alfred grinned. "It's about a hero -"

"Oh no."

"Wait, listen! The hero is a knight who is sent to a faraway kingdom to rescue a princess, who instead turns out to be a grumpy prince who doesn't want to be rescued, _thank you very much!_"

Arthur chuckled. "Interesting." Then the penny dropped. "I'm the prince, according to you, aren't I?" At Alfred's sheepish expression, Arthur rolled his eyes. "So let me guess, you're the knight?"

"I'd like to think I am like him, yeah!" Alfred said with an optimistic smile. He reckoned it was saying 'I'd like to think' that redeemed him slightly from being accused of being egotistical, which seemed to be the fast-track into Arthur's bad books. "Anyway, the two kind of get thrown together after the kingdom gets attacked and the prince's castle mysteriously burns down. So, they are trying to get back to civilization, but instead end up going on lots of awesome adventures!"

"Right."

"Hey, it's fun, I promise! All their adventures are epic – they have to fight vampires, sea monsters, wizards…" Alfred laughed as Arthur's ears seemed to prick up at 'wizards'. "Enough magic and campfire rituals and stuff to fill your dorky dreams!"

"Says the lad who no doubt still dreams of being a superhero," Arthur remarked, but he was smiling. "What else do they come across?"

"Aw Artie, you really wanna know, don't ya?" Alfred said gleefully. "They run into some fire-breathing crocs at some point."

"Because fire-breathing dragons are too mainstream?"

Alfred took out his own new book. "The whole series couldn't be called mainstream, though sometimes I wish I'd find someone else who's read it. Anyway, I won't tell you everything, it's better if you find out."

"Well, with the way you're raving about it, it sounds promising," he said, opening the volume at about halfway through.

"Hey, don't spoil it for yourself!" Alfred exclaimed, whapping his hand down on Arthur's to stop him. Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. Alfred assumed it was because Arthur didn't like physical contact. He smirked as he remembered Arthur's face going ketchup red once when Alfred had decided to pick Arthur up and sling him over his shoulder like a fireman.

_Like a hero,_ Alfred thought, taking his hand from on top of Arthur's and stretching his muscles proudly. He then lazily brought his arms down to rest along the back of the bench. "I just want to keep things intense for you, which wouldn't work if you knew what was going to happen next." He laughed when he saw Arthur had tensed up uncomfortably and was now glancing at Alfred's arm, which was nearly around his back. "Aw, c'mon! I'm not even touching you, you've got tons of personal space!"

Arthur shook his head. "No, it's just that I want to be able to lean back on this bench without it looking like…" He glanced back at Alfred's arm, watching the fingers happily tapping out a beat. "…Like you are an inch away from putting me into a headlock," he finished.

"That's not what it looks like, and you know it, man." Alfred pouted as if hurt and made as if to move his arm away. Just as Arthur let out a sigh of breath, Alfred suddenly grinned and swept his hand up to ruffle Arthur's messy blond hair. The alarming shade of red Arthur's face became, along with his livid expression, signalled Alfred's cue to run away back to work. He was hastily downing his cold coffee and shoving his new book into his satchel when Arthur stood up, eyeing him to get his attention.

Alfred held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I get it, you're not keen on me being anywhere near you!"

Arthur looked at him with an expression that appeared almost sad. "No…thank you." He help up his present before wrapping both arms round it. "Thank you for getting me something new to read. It's…especially thoughtful of you to give me something which you believe is of top quality."

This made Alfred go quiet for a moment as he searched Arthur's face, looking for the sarcasm or irony hidden within this acknowledgement. When he couldn't find anything but a glint of hope mixed in with serious gratitude, he shrugged, bemused. "I swear you change your tune like a dodgy radio," he mused. "One minute you look like you're about to explode, the next you're thanking me. I pity your wife of the future for all this mood-swinging, dude."

Alfred couldn't help but feel slightly regretful that the glint of hope disappeared from Arthur's face and the frown made its grand return. "Is that so? _You_ think_ I_ am a mood-swinger?"

"Um…yeah," Alfred replied, believing this was a reasonable assumption.

Arthur folded his arms. "You've been acting all pally with me up until this point today, and _now _you call me a…a 'dodgy radio,' or whatever, whose wife of the future is already pitiable! How is that different?"

Alfred yawned as he began to stroll down the path leading out of the park. "My mood is usually prompted by something."

"Oh, and I suppose mine is not?"

Alfred grinned. "Yeah, that's about it. Anyway, my lunch-break's over. Peace out, Artie."

While he sauntered in the direction of work, Alfred couldn't help looking over his shoulder back at Arthur a couple of times. Arthur sat back down on the bench, defeated. Alfred felt a pang of uneasiness. He didn't like leaving on a bad note. "Hope you enjoy the manga!" he called out.

"We'll see," Arthur replied curtly.

Alfred smiled. "I think you will," he said before leaving the park with a confident stride.

Alfred had left too quickly to see Arthur's expression soften as he looked down at _Knight or Never_'s front cover. "We'll see," he said again quietly.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Kiku Honda scribbled feverishly on his fortieth piece of paper that week. The small, dark-haired man craned over his work, his back straining from curving over at his desk for most of the day. It was night and tiredness kept trying to take over, but he forced himself to continue drawing and writing. After all, he could not just end it for the night with Prince Quentin halfway through telling Sir Gallant what he loved, could he?<p>

_PRINCE QUENTIN: I find it hard to put this into words, but one thing in this troubled world warms my heart no matter the weather. Whenever I rise, it's there waiting for me. When I feel hollow, it fills me up again. I've relied on it time and time again. It's my saviour._

He paused, poking his pen under his chin. He was not a very famous mangaka by any means and sometimes it felt like only his private team and himself actually cared about what happened to the knight and the prince over in Japan. But, for the sake of the few scattered fans over in the USA and himself, he would keep going with persistent dedication.

Kiku thanked his lucky stars for his international fans. Even though there were not many out there compared to other manga with a following in America, it was their attention, buying copies and praise that allowed him to continue with a job that was his life and passion. His decision to translate _Knight or Never_ had been one of his best career-wise. Of course, he translated his manga into English himself, with the help of his editor, rather than hire a translator, which was not the best time-saving decision. Yet he didn't want a translator. He already saw two people on a regular basis, and that was quite enough for him.

He sketched the prince's indignant pout with a fine pencil. While he loved his fans, he also had a considerable amount of fun teasing them. He ended the prince's romantic speech with, '_And that is why I love hot bread_' before turning in for the night.


	2. Kiku Honda

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

Kiku sat in his editor's office, reading his latest chapter over and over again nervously. He knew it was not going to be mistake-free, it never was, but he hoped there was enough to merit it to not have his spirits completely crushed. His eyes narrowed at some of the words he had written in English. Some of them that he thought were fine earlier now looked very odd, but he couldn't remember the correct spelling anyway. He looked up for a moment to survey his editor's office. As always, the items on the desk, shelves and furniture were arranged immaculately. It was this almost scary tidiness that gave Editor Ludwig a fearsome overhanging presence even when he was not there.

Kiku looked at his watch. 9:59. _Those two will be here in three…two…one…_

The door swung open as a small young man with auburn hair came bursting into the room, a dizzy smile on his face as usual.

"Ciao, Kiku!" he practically sang. "Have you been busy this week?"

To Kiku, this was a mildly annoying question._ I've completed forty pages of drawing and writing for this week's deadline, but don't worry, it wasn't at all time-consuming. _But he had many thoughts that would only ever stay inside his head, this being one of them, so he gave a nod and held up his script.

"Ah, cool! I just can't get enough of your pretty pictures!" He turned to the door. "Don't you think so too, Luddy?" Kiku's editor, who only went by the name of Ludwig, marched in, putting down his briefcase beside his desk as he took a seat on the opposite side of Kiku.

"They are not 'pretty pictures', Feliciano." Ludwig looked to Kiku, frowning. "This is another chapter of a marketable artwork project. Or so I hope."

Kiku slid down in his seat slightly. _I've already disappointed you, Ludwig-san._

Feliciano hovered around like a fly, beaming and chattering about traffic, dinner and what fun he had last night. Kiku had to hand it to him, in the right situation, Feliciano's ability to make quick-paced (albeit rather one-sided) conversation to two individuals who were there for business could be considered a skill.

It made him a desirable talent agent.

Ludwig cleared his throat and took his glasses out of their case. "Let us see what you're inflicting on the world this time," he said, putting his glasses on and taking a pencil from the pot on his desk. With his square-shaped, black-rimmed glasses, he reminded Kiku of the teacher he had at school who would always tell him off for daydreaming in class. Feliciano zoomed towards him to read over his shoulder, his hands on the back of Ludwig's chair as he craned over him. Ludwig took out his pencil almost immediately and started making notes in the margins, speaking out loud as he did so.

"It would be more appropriate to use 'Rite' of Passage, spelled R-I-T-E, instead of 'Right' of Passage here, to describe the initiation ceremony. 'Deceived' is spelt with an E-I – here you put 'I-E.'"

"Oh! My mama told me a little rhyme to help us remember that!" Feliciano chimed helpfully. "Remember Kiku, 'I before E except after C!'"

Kiku typed the rhyme on a draft page on his phone, knowing he would never remember otherwise. The pencil swept across the page to write on the other side.

"I think you mean 'come through here' instead of 'come threw here', the difference being one is a preposition, the other a verb." Kiku nodded, pretending he knew what Ludwig meant. Ludwig's frown deepened as he read. "You can be a 'waste of space', but not a 'waist of space'."

"I'm sorry?"

Feliciano laughed. "What Luddy means is, the way you've used an 'I' and no E means instead of the waste you want, you've written this one!" He reached down and squeezed Ludwig around his middle. Ludwig yelped and batted him off.

"Feliciano Vargas, will you start acting professional and stop being inappropriate?!"

"Aw, I was just demonstrating what 'waist' Kiku used!"

"Well, if you continue to demonstrate so physically I will have you removed from my office for being a 'waste' of space!" Kiku watched his editor argue with his agent, the confusing word war lost on him. He was, however, observant and resourceful in other ways. As he watched Ludwig shout with an unmistakeably reddened face, he took out a small journal, flipped to a clean page and started quietly sketching his colleagues. He wasn't quite quiet enough, as Ludwig spotted him and said, "You had better not use us as 'inspiration' again! Even if that scene _was_ well-received, I want to be able to argue without it being recorded and used to demonstrate what a 'tsundere' Quentin is."

"Of course not, Ludwig-san," said Kiku, horrified. Kiku, being so shut off from the rest of the world, sometimes felt the need to draw expressions by observing the ones regularly given by his colleagues. Never though would he draw characters that looked like the duo in front of him, nor would he quote them, borrow Feliciano's jokes or use their names for anything other than giving them credit as his staff team at the back of each published volume. Kiku valued his privacy, and with it he valued the privacy of others too. But…there was nothing stopping him from drawing Ludwig's frown or Feliciano's smile, if he put them on Sir Tobias Gallant and Prince Quentin.

Ludwig had calmed down and was turning to the next page. Feliciano had settled himself on the arm of Ludwig's chair, that contented dozy smile making its triumphant return. Kiku wondered how Feliciano had managed to redeem himself so quickly and regretted not listening. Then again, Kiku had noticed that Ludwig had a soft spot for the upbeat Italian. Ludwig let him get away with a lot, considering his temper, be it personal space invasions, illnesses or untamed curls of hair. _Still, in order to charm yourself to anyone at all, you have to be somewhat charming_, he thought. He had to conclude he was not one of these people when Ludwig suddenly slammed both palms on the table.

"REALLY?" he shouted in an outraged tone.

Kiku glanced at the upside-down script, wondering what part they had got up to. Surely he hadn't reached the silly ending of Prince Quentin's heart-felt speech yet, and even then he hadn't taken Ludwig for a huge…_what do they call a relationship enthusiast now? Ah yes, a Gallant and Quentin shipper. Somehow that sounds very odd. Oh well._

"'Really', Ludwig-san?"

"Yes, REALLY. You spelt REALLY wrong!"

"All he needed was another L..." said Feliciano timidly.

"That someone who would like to call himself an author in any form would make this error is an outrage! Atrocious! Do you not double-check your work to see if there is a spelling that blatantly looks wrong?!"

Kiku took the script from Ludwig's desk and looked back at the 'realy', which was now easier to spot as it had multiple rings drawn by an angry pencil round it. His opinion of his English capacities hit an all-time low and he bowed his head, trying to not show how upset he was. Ludwig noticed this and softened.

"This is an unusually bad mistake for you, and…" He turned some more pages over. "You have spelt it right on other pages."

"Was something affecting your concentration when you wrote this?" Feliciano asked, his eyes widening sympathetically. Kiku frowned as he tried to remember when he wrote it.

"I think I wrote that page at 3 in the morning," he admitted. Ludwig and Feliciano exchanged a look before turning back to Kiku.

"Even I am starting to think you're over-working," Ludwig sighed. "The quality of your work would be better if you looked after yourself more. This week, cut down to just thirty pages, or even twenty-five. Other mangaka have done that, especially those working for a weekly deadline, as you do."

"Ludwig-san, other mangaka can afford to do that. As _Knight or Never_ only has a small cult following…"

"Then not many people will mind if this next chapter is shorter!" replied Feliciano cheerfully.

Kiku raised his eyebrows under his long fringe. Feliciano really did spot the thinnest of silver linings among the clouds. Kiku was not sure this was helpful all the time.

"Well, it would be nice if _Knight or Never_ could gain popularity," said Ludwig, taking his glasses off to rub his face. "We would have better funding, recognition and respect as a result." His blue eyes met Kiku's. "Though it comes down to this; the three of us are here because we like the project, nothing more or less." Kiku gave him a grateful nod, but was still ill at ease about the page count.

"The next chapter is the climax of this arc," he said. "I don't want to let the readers down by rushing it."

"Climaxes are allowed to be short and snappy," Ludwig assured him. "And if you find you can't fit all you want in twenty-five pages, you can spread the content over two chapters."

"And…" This next question embarrassed Kiku before he even said it, but he felt he had to ask it. "What will I do with the extra hours?" Both Feliciano and Ludwig looked taken aback.

"Why, anything!" Ludwig said, confused. "Anything you like!"

"I know! How about you use the extra time to take a siesta?" Feliciano suggested excitedly. "Then you will stop spelling small words wrong. As everyone says, Quality over Quantity!"

The rest of the meeting passed with Ludwig pointing out more errors and making suggestions and Kiku nodding along to everything he said. When Feliciano fell asleep, still on the arm of Ludwig's chair, Ludwig had picked him up, carried him to the small sofa in the office and laid him there, and Kiku had had to resist drawing the scene to use later. At the end of the meeting, Ludwig started packing his folders away in his briefcase. Kiku shyly mumbled, "How are the illustrations?" Ludwig looked up at him, his expression serious.

"The pictures…" He gave the smallest of smiles. "The pictures are perfect, as always."

Kiku uttered a quiet 'thank you', but inside, his heart raced. _Perfect...if I could be perfect, I think I would feel complete._

* * *

><p>Arthur tiredly trudged up to his flat, rifling through his wallet for his keys. After working at the office for an extra hour, all he wanted to do was to flop down on the sofa with a microwavable meal and watch television until his eyes went blurry. He paused as he heard laughter from the other side of the door, an all-too familiar 'Honhonhonhon!'<p>

The chances of him being able to relax in the living room were looking less likely.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open. As expected, his flatmate Francis was lounging on the sofa, a glass of wine in his hand, looking like the cat that got the cream as he spoke in a sensuous voice to a pretty young lady, who Arthur presumed was his latest date. What Arthur didn't expect was the state of the kitchen, which looked like a tornado had swept through it. Albeit a tornado that could cook.

"Francis," Arthur started, trying to keep his voice even. The name 'Francis' felt strange on his tongue. Normally he addressed Francis with far ruder names, but he didn't want to stoop so low as to embarrass him in front of his companion. "You haven't yet cleaned up."

"Hmm?" Francis looked up at him, raising his delicate eyebrows. "Ah…Arthur, _mon cher_…" He winked at his girlfriend, who giggled daintily. "Could we leave it for now? We're just a little…busy right now."

"Doing _what_ exactly?"

"Shh, calm down," Francis purred. "Nothing like what I think you're implying. You certainly leap to conclusions." Arthur felt his cheeks burn, for what felt like the twentieth time that day. He searched for a sharp comeback, but couldn't find one, so went back to the serious matter at hand.

"Well, if _you _don't clean up, then _I _will have to!"

"_Non, non._" Francis stood up, circled the sofa to reach Arthur and started gently rubbing the irritated man's shoulders. "You could do something daring, like leave them for later." He winced as Arthur elbowed him in the stomach to free himself. Arthur turned around to face him, more annoyed than ever.

"I'm not leaving dirty dishes and pans around. How am I supposed to cook with them otherwise?" He left out the fact that he hadn't planned on cooking that night. He wanted another reason to be angry. Francis smiled knowingly.

"Perhaps, Arthur, that might be a blessing in disguise?" Arthur looked about for something to throw at him. Francis stepped forward to hold Arthur by the forearms. "Let's not fight in front of a lady," he warned the Brit. "Anyway, you don't have to stay here by yourself. Maybe you would like to come out with us tonight? We are going to a nightclub."

Arthur frowned, considering it for a moment. It would be nice to tell Alfred and everyone at work that he did go out sometimes, if only to shut them up when they next joked about him being antisocial. But was it worth hours of having his eardrums blasted with loud music, a high risk of doing embarrassing stunts while everyone sober recorded them, and having a pounding headache the next morning? Arthur shook his head.

"Non? You don't want to chat to people and dance the night away?" A sneaky smile emerged across Francis's lips and Arthur somehow knew his flatmate was trying to envisage Arthur dancing the night away. Arthur just about bit back his retort. "Well, if you insist on not coming, then we shall leave you in peace. Let's go, Lisa."

As Lisa skipped out the door, looking a little relieved to be leaving, Francis leant against the doorway, folding his arms. He looked disappointed. "You know, if you actually went out to have fun once in a while, you might have more friends." He turned away, his long blond hair swishing as he left, shaking his head. The door closed behind him, leaving a distinct silence in the flat for a moment.

Arthur let out a long sigh and turned to start washing the cooking utensils and plates. The lovely fragrance around the kitchen unit only irritated him further. His daily routine was quickly descending into waking up, burning breakfast, going to work, having lunch with an idiot, going back to work, and then returning home to another idiot, then probably burning dinner too. He frowned, scrubbing the plates harder. What was more annoying was neither Alfred nor Francis could be called idiots in the true sense, disregarding the odd silly moment. No, what was truly frustrating for Arthur was that both could get under his skin, and they both _knew _this and _liked _this and at times seemed to deliberately provoke him. Now _that_ was idiotic.

He remembered both of them craftily invading his personal space – _like even the space around me belongs to them _– Alfred in his friendly way, Francis in his flirty way. Arthur was often accused of being uptight and not understanding social cues, but in regards to these two, he believed his judgement was sound. They both reached out for him, tried to involve him and get closer to him…then all of a sudden they would take a step back, usually just as Arthur was warming up to them. _I don't want to understand either of them. I know when I'm being played with._

Arthur started drying the plates with an Eiffel Tower patterned tea towel. 'Played with', yes… he remembered last Valentine's Day, when he spent his lunch listening to Alfred wistfully talking about being in the mood for chocolate. Arthur had taken this as an implication that Alfred would be happy to have a Valentine's gift, so visited his house with a box of chocolates. When he turned up at his door, Alfred was already cramming his cheeks with supermarket-bought chocolate. Arthur had had to explain why he was there, and…

Alfred had _laughed _at him.

That was the moment Arthur had decided to keep on guard, for the main basis of his and Alfred's friendship seemed to be the amusement Alfred got out of him. But sometimes, in fact quite a lot if Arthur was being honest with himself, Alfred seemed to be genuinely trying to make their friendship 'work.' Like today. He didn't have to get him a new book to read. Thinking about it, Arthur remembered saying the other day that he would like a new book to sink his teeth into, when Alfred had smiled in a mischievous way, as if planning something. This must have been his plan.

Arthur dried his hands and slipped a hand into the paper bag, pulling out _Knight or Never Volume 1_ carefully. He turned to what he thought the first page, only to be met by a cheery message which politely told him he was trying to read the wrong way. He smiled slightly and curled up in his favourite armchair, ready to give his new friends Sir Gallant and Prince Quentin his full attention.

**Author's Note: Hello, thanks for reading! This chapter is dedicated to beta readers everywhere :)**** Having just written all about it, I'm going to go and spell 'really' wrong now, aren't I… Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	3. Pirates of the Park

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

Alfred spread a picnic rug across the grass in the park, whistling happily to himself. On a sunny day like this, in his favourite park, armed with a freshly ordered pizza and the promise of a review of _Knight or Never _by Arthur, what was there to not like?

As it was a Saturday, there were far more children in the park than on weekdays. Alfred sat down on the rug and watched them with a nostalgic smile. Ten years ago, he was one of those kids playing a rough game of Bulldog on the grassy terrain. He also saw himself in the kids a little way off, who were playing a make-believe game of Pirates, using a big fallen tree as their 'ship'. Far away from the children playing were a few scattered kids who sat reading comics alone in their downtime. Alfred remembered being them too.

Actually, out of all the kids in the park, those comic-readers were the most like he was _now_.

"Alfred." Alfred looked up to see Arthur approaching him. He grinned, patting the rug.

"Arthur, hey!" Arthur raised his eyebrows, appearing surprised, but came to sit beside him. Alfred internally applauded himself for not calling him 'Artie'. "Pizza?"

"Ah, lovely, thank you," Arthur replied, taking a slice. As he bit into ham and pineapple Alfred could see his big green eyes eyeing him with suspicion from over his pizza slice. Alfred turned to face him, crossing his legs underneath him.

"So," he started eagerly. "What did you think?"

"This is all to tempt me to give it a good review, isn't it?"

"No," Alfred gasped, as if offended. "I'd like an honest review way better." He smiled, waggling his eyebrows. "Although, now you mention it, you're not in a position where you can just go and slate my new favourite series, are you?" Arthur sighed in response.

"You are more cunning than you look."

"Um, thanks?" Arthur finished his slice of pizza before speaking again.

"Well, where to begin? The plot has the most untidy progression I think I have ever read in any story _ever_. They reach the beach and immediately sea creatures start attacking them? Their adventures would have been far more realistic if there was actually some _build-up_."

Alfred felt stung by these words. He couldn't pinpoint why: it wasn't like _he_ was the creator of the manga. This led to his reply sounding far more defensive than he intended.

"I actually like that randomness, to be honest. It would be boring if nothing happened for ages. Also, it's an _adventure._" Then he added, with a tone of regret, "Since when were adventures ever realistic?"

He saw Arthur visibly soften at this. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, hoping Arthur wouldn't ask him how his life's own 'adventure' was going. Luckily – thankfully – Arthur didn't press the issue and returned to talking about the book.

"I'm not saying a book being realistic is 100% essential, Alfred. In fact, some of the best books are not at all realistic. If it fits with the story's tone, as it does here…it can be a technique of its own." Alfred took a slice of pizza and started gnawing on the crust.

"Technical stuff aside, dude, did you like the book?"

"I thought you wanted a review," Arthur said, disappointed.

"Save the detailed analysis for your Book Reviewers Anonymous account later. I'm more interested in, y'know, your personal opinion."

"Wait a minute, how did you find out about my Book Reviewers Anonymous account? I made a strict point to stay _anonymous_!" Arthur looked annoyed, but more embarrassed than anything else.

"One: I'm a genius. Two: It doesn't even take a genius to figure out that the guy who uses big words, no smilies and calls himself '_Absolutely Invincible British Gentleman'_ could only be you."

"You are a swine," Arthur declared, but for some reason he didn't seem too angry. Alfred smiled and leant forward with his elbows on his knees.

"So, your thoughts?" he prompted.

"Ah yes. Hmm… well, it's certainly an interesting little book. Amusing at times. Lovely artwork." Alfred grinned widely.

"I knew you'd like it!" Arthur held up a finger, motioning that he was not yet finished.

"The story… and some of the characters, are bizarre at times. The author is clearly barking. It looks like he – or she…?"

"Kiku is a gender-neutral name in Japan. Could be either, no-one knows," Alfred said with a shrug.

"Well, it looks like this 'Kiku Honda' has no plan on where this is going," Arthur continued. "It appears that he or she is just letting their imagination run wild. But," he added with a smile. "That is what makes this so interesting. It's just limitless story-telling, isn't it?"

Alfred blinked a couple of times, surprised by Arthur's liberal view on this. Arthur normally came across as serious, with a 'stiff upper-lip' and a cynical attitude, so it seemed abnormal that he would think this. Then, as Alfred looked back at the kids pretending to be pirates, any thoughts of Arthur being a cynic drifted away…

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><p><em> Alfred tottered into the park, searching for some of the other local kids to play with. The seven-year-old had just moved into the city with his family and it had been a long day. All his games and toys had yet to be unpacked, so he was bored just waiting around while his parents jabbered to the delivery men. His twin brother Matthew was content sitting on the stairs quietly reading a book, but Alfred couldn't bear to be stuck indoors a moment longer.<em>

_ He looked around eagerly for some future friends. To his disappointment, the park was virtually empty at this time in the afternoon; he was met with only an expansion of green grass and abandoned benches. He was about to turn back when he heard someone happily shouting from the other end of the park. Curious, Alfred followed the voice to the far end of the common._

_ A boy who looked to be a few years older than Alfred balanced on the front of an overturned tree, looking through a long cardboard tube and talking to thin air. It seemed he had not spotted Alfred yet. Alfred observed him as the boy ran around on his tree. Whatever he was doing, he seemed to be having a whale of a time. As the wind blew his blond fringe away from his forehead, Alfred noticed his big, exuberant eyes – and those colossal eyebrows._

"_Aha! The enemy's approaching, guns blazing, ready to fire." He spoke in a voice that sounded somehow different to most other voices Alfred had heard. "Let's see if we can steer our vessel back to St Lucia – oh drat, the current is steering us closer towards them! What should we do, Tinkerbell? Oh wait, I have an idea!" He reached down to pick up a scroll. He unrolled it and stared at it for a while. Alfred supposed it was a map. "We shall navigate to the centre of the sea and engage the pirates in battle, whilst leading them to the crocodile's cove! Yes, here they-" Suddenly, the cardboard tube was pointed in Alfred's direction. "Ahoy, who goes there?"_

_ Alfred cautiously stepped forward._

"_What are you doing?" he asked timidly._

"_What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sailing back to England!" Alfred tilted his head to the side in confusion. "I'm stranded on the high seas though because the pirates are cutting off my escape route," the boy added by way of explanation._

"_But there aren't any pirates," Alfred stated, now even more confused. The boy sighed._

"_I know there aren't any pirates – the whole point of the game is to _pretend _you're being attacked by pirates. Have you never played before?"_

"_You're playing a game?" Alfred's eyes widened with excitement, and before he could stop himself he asked, "Can I play with you?"_

_ He went pink from embarrassment, knowing immediately that the older boy would say no. Big, cool boys never wanted to play with annoying little kids like him. The boy rubbed his chin, appearing to consider Alfred._

"_I suppose you can," he decided. "A captain needs a crew. Come aboard, laddy."_

_ Alfred beamed and ran towards him._

"_How do I play?" he asked._

_The boy held up a hand, making Alfred stop in his tracks._

"_The only rule is to use your imagination. Think about where you are. I am clearly on a ship. Look over there." He pointed to a log with a Jolly Roger flag next to it. "That is the enemy ship. So _you _are in the sea right now. I'd start swimming if I were you."_

_ Alfred thought for a moment before he started motioning doggy-paddling while trotting towards the 'ship'. Then an idea came to him._

"_Help!" he squeaked, pretending he was sinking. "There are sharks in the water! One's got my leg!"_

_For the first time, Alfred saw the boy give an impressed smile. He jumped off his tree, 'swam' towards Alfred and pulled him towards his 'ship' by the hand._

"_Don't worry, I've got you. Welcome aboard the Victory." He sat down on one of the tree branches. "What's your name?"_

"_Alfred. It's really nice to meet you!" Alfred said happily. "And yours?"_

"_I'm Arthur, but for now, call me Captain Kirkland. It's nice to meet you too."_

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><p>Alfred looked back at Arthur, who had a dreamy smile on his face. Those same bright eyes, those same huge eyebrows, even that same haircut…<p>

"It's funny, isn't it?" Arthur said reflectively. "How time has gone on, yet this park remains the same."

"Yeah." Alfred reached over for another pizza slice. "Can't really say the same for us." Arthur frowned thoughtfully.

"No," he admitted. "People change."

Alfred felt a pang of sadness at this statement. He wished the change wasn't such a negative change, but there were few other ways of looking at it. When Alfred was twelve, Arthur's parents decided to move their family back to the United Kingdom. Alfred remembered being so devastated when told that his best friend was disappearing to the other side of the world, most likely forever. By the time Arthur had come back to the United States to attend an American college, Alfred had grown to slightly overtake Arthur's height, become physically athletic and had developed a passion for comic books and a personality brimming with confidence.

It was at this point where it became apparent that once Alfred had stopped physically looking up to Arthur, he no longer looked up to him mentally either. While Arthur was away, Alfred had missed him dreadfully. He tried writing letters to Arthur, but they both began having less and less time to keep it up. He looked for Arthur online, but Arthur was nowhere to be found on any social media sites. He eventually gave up trying to keep in contact, even though he would regularly be tempted to pick up a pen and write another letter, even if there was no reply.

But eventually he began to move on, joining sports teams, reading comics and making fun, _cool _friends, the popular kids at school who always got told off for being up to no good. Slowly, surely, he started to wonder why he had ever thought of the quirky, unconventional Brit as a role model.

Now however, having barely seen his friends since leaving school and getting a job in a garage… Alfred sometimes wished he could go back to being the boy who Arthur shared his imagination with and adored as if he were his little brother. But he knew this was not possible.

As much as he had changed, Arthur had changed too. Whatever his experiences in England, he had come back more prickly and sensitive, hand-in-hand with a pessimism that could rival that of a Gothic poet. Alfred found that when they were reunited, they just couldn't interact with the same easiness as before they were apart. The most frustrating thing for Alfred was how he knew they both wanted to patch things over, hence why they always met for lunch, but Arthur always had this impenetrable barrier around him, and seemed to be constantly disappointed with Alfred, even before Alfred knew what he had done.

As much as Arthur seemed to think otherwise, he was miles away from that fun, imaginative boy who let Alfred join his game before he had even learnt his name.

The silence that had settled seemed to be making Arthur uncomfortable too. He took another slice of pizza and cleared his throat.

"Well, anyway, it is certainly an interesting book," he said. "A funny little… what did you say it was, a 'magna'…?"

"Manga."

"Yes, it's worth the read and has piqued my curiosity." He cleared his throat again. A slow grin spread across Alfred's face.

"Are you gonna find out what happens next?" he asked.

"I… certainly would be interested to hear if they survive the dinner party of the sea serpents."

"Spoiler alert: they live," Alfred replied with a wink. Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Now why would you just go and tell me that? You seemed adamant that their adventures remain a secret until I read it yesterday." Alfred shrugged in response.

"Just giving you a heads-up that there's ten _Knight or Never_ books so far, with more on the way." He smirked. "It's a big commitment."

For the first time in what felt like years, Arthur gave him a look that suggested he was slightly impressed. A small smile flickered across his face.

"I can handle… commitment, as you put it."

"Great!" Alfred took two of the remaining pizza slices and shoved them into his hoodie's front pocket, sniggering at Arthur's horrified expression. "I'm heading down to the bookshop now – I need my Captain America fix! Do you want me to get you Volume 2?"

"Oh, no, that's very kind of you, but I'll lend you the money and pay for it myself, considering your finances are a little-" Arthur cut himself short, looking very embarrassed. Alfred just laughed. Cash was not one of his sensitive topics.

"'Tight'? Yeah, I've gotta admit, I'm pretty broke. Too many impromptu pizza orders!" Arthur looked away guiltily.

"I'm very sorry, in future don't-"

"Chill!" Alfred laughed. "It's okay – we've gotta live, haven't we? Besides," he added with a warm smile. "I enjoyed today."

Arthur's cheeks went pink. Alfred thought to himself that Arthur's tendency to blush was perhaps one thing he rather liked about Post-England Arthur.

"Likewise." Arthur handed Alfred some change. "Use this. You can use the spare change to buy yourself a doughnut or some other horrendous treat you'd like."

"Dude, really?" Alfred's face lit up like a bonfire. "I could kiss you!"

"Um…" Arthur seemed to be lost for words. "Please don't."

Alfred pouted jokingly.

"D'awww, for a moment there it looked like you were considering it!" He winked. He liked winking, it felt like an incredibly cool thing to do. When heroes winked it made people faint. Of course, he had yet to make Arthur faint, which he now decided was his mission of the future. He grabbed the money and hurried off to the bookshop.

Perhaps, if he had stayed behind a little longer, he would have seen Arthur press his hand to his forehead and close his eyes as if he were about to swoon.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it :) Let's dedicate this chapter to...old friends XD We'll meet Lithuania in the next chapter.**


	4. Alfred Makes a New Friend

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

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><p>"You've gotta be kidding me."<p>

Alfred stared at the manga shelves disbelievingly. This was the biggest bookshop in the city, with four different manga shelves, which seemed to house at least one volume of every manga series available…except _Knight or Never._ Alfred looked back at the money in his hand sadly, still hoping he would be able to get his doughnut despite not bringing back the book. Surely Arthur wouldn't mind?

That was the annoying thing about being a fan of an obscure series: if it wasn't a bestseller, the bookshops had no reason to keep it in stock. Alfred knew he could order the books online – he had often had to before – but he was the impatient type who liked getting something as soon as he saw it. Also, even though he hated to admit it to himself, he wanted to see Arthur's impressed smile again. As much as he wanted to be that cool cat who didn't care what other people thought of him, he got a kick out of Arthur liking him. He reminded himself this wasn't pathetic at all: superheroes thrive off the fame, attention and respect they receive from the citizens they save. Don't most people want the majority to be in awe of them?

_Except Arthur is definitely the minority. Impressing him won't make me famous. Why am I trying so hard to get back on his good side? _A reassurance came to him immediately, letting him relax again. _I just like the challenge._

He was about to search for the latest adventure of Captain America when he heard footsteps behind him. _Huh? Someone else in the manga section?_

"_Knight or Never,_ huh? K, K, K… oh. Sorry, it doesn't look like we have that one."

"Oh, that's okay! Thank you for your help, ma'am."

"What?!" Alfred realised a second too late that he had exclaimed this out loud, but now was not the time to think about it. He turned round to see a young man with wavy shoulder-length brown hair looking back at him, bewildered. "Dude, you're into that series?"

"Um…" The stranger gave a nervous smile. "I suppose I am, yes." It sounded like he was wondering if this was the correct answer to the question. The shop assistant smiled and returned to the other end of the shop.

"Wow, this is so cool! I never meet any fellow fans of _Knight or Never!_ This must be fate!"

_You, random guy, are going to be my new friend. It doesn't matter who you are; liking my favourite series automatically makes you awesome._ Alfred held out his hand.

"I'm Alfred Jones, what's your name?" His new acquaintance cautiously took his hand and shook it.

"Toris Laurinatis."

"Toris Lauri-what-now?" Toris laughed shyly.

"Laurinatis." Alfred scratched his head.

"Is that, like… okay, I've gotta admit, I don't know where that's from. Where are you from?"

"Lithuania."

"Sweet." Alfred didn't know where Lithuania was, but he wasn't going to show off his fail in geography. Toris smiled at him awkwardly as silence settled between them. Alfred racked his brains for something else to say; he didn't want the conversation to die this early. "So, if you're from Lithuania, how come you're here in America?"

"Well… uh, it's a long story, and…" Toris gave Alfred an apologetic look. "It's not one I can really talk about."

"Sure, that's okay."

_Mysterious minx,_ a voice in Alfred's head joked inappropriately, which thankfully never escaped Alfred's head. The conversation was driven to another halt. Alfred didn't want to hit another nerve, but he wanted to keep talking. Really, how often was it that he happened to run into another _Knight or Never _fan? This reminded him of one other thing they could talk about.

"So hey, _Knight or Never. _Who's your favourite character?"

"Oh, I couldn't say!" Toris said with a small laugh. "I like them all, really!" Alfred blinked from behind his glasses. _What a safe answer._ He himself gave a proud smile.

"My favourite is Sir Gallant, because he's the hero! He's fearless, funny and always saves the day in awesome style!"

"Sir Gallant is wonderful," Toris nodded. Alfred was mildly amused by how quickly Toris agreed with him. Did he honestly share his opinion, or was he just very easy-going, or polite? Toris twisted his hands together. "You like strong characters, then?"

"Well yeah, don't we all?" Alfred grinned.

"Yes, they are appealing," Toris agreed. "Though… I – personally – also like characters who perhaps have something vulnerable about them too." He hastily raised his hands in timid reassurance. "Though that's just a personal preference! I like strong characters too, I didn't mean to-!" Alfred laughed and waved a dismissive hand.

"Kid, I get you. Calm down!" He cocked his head to the side, curious. "Why do you like 'vulnerable' characters?" Toris started rubbing his arm. Alfred smiled cockily. It had been a long time since he had attempted conversation with someone so anxious and polite.

"A little vulnerability is nice… because, to me… it makes the character more relatable somehow." He blushed as if he thought he had said too much. Alfred was about to ask how when he realised they were touching on personal issues again.

"Cool," he said, not knowing how else to respond. Before the pause became too long, he added, "I like most of the characters too, though Prince Quentin annoys me." Toris chuckled quietly.

"That's interesting; you're probably the first person to say that! Why does he annoy you?"

"He's kind of whiny at times. I mean, I know he has cause to be because his tower was set on fire and now he's always on the run from monsters and stuff, but it's like…quit moaning already! You're lucky enough to be hanging out with someone as awesome as Sir Gallant and all you do is complain!" Toris laughed at this.

"Yes, complaining hasn't solved any of his problems yet, has it?"

"Exactly! Oh, and there's another reason he gets on my nerves: no matter what Gallant does, whether he saves him from drowning or pays him a compliment, Quentin's never grateful. Sure, he might get a 'thank you' if he's lucky, but that's it. He never accepts apologies either. It's like he's deliberately trying to hate Gallant, which isn't fair! No wonder Gallant feels like he can only joke about with him, it's the only way to get any fun out of the guy! "

Alfred felt surprised at himself: that all came out as much more of a rant as he had expected it to. Toris tapped his cheek with his index finger thoughtfully.

"Perhaps – this is the way I see it at least – Quentin is grateful and _does _like Gallant, but is too afraid to admit it? Some people struggle to say how they really feel."

"But that's stupid! It would be way better if people were just honest and said what they meant! That way, they don't waste everyone's time by making them have to decode them."

"It would make things simpler, but there are all sorts of reasons why people don't," Toris replied with a gentle smile. "We don't know what Quentin has been through in the past, but until we find out, we can only guess at why he is like he is."

Alfred blinked a couple of times, stunned. Suddenly, it seemed like he had skipped out on some crucial hidden chapters of the moody prince's tale… and some more hidden chapters of a certain moody friend's story…

Toris took a manga from one of the shelves and traced the front cover with his hand.

"Books and people are much of a muchness," he said in his soft way. Alfred thought there was a hint of sadness in his voice. "Their appearance, how they are when you first meet them… it is only the front cover. That is never all there is to them. Never. There is a story behind everyone. Isn't it just fascinating? Everyone is so special, because they cannot be summarised by what's on the surface."

"Yeah…" Alfred now felt like a nerve of his own had been struck. _Toris, it can work the other way round too. What if you pick up a book for its cool front cover, only for the story inside to be complete trash?_ Then he grinned, spotting a perfect decoy from this Deep Meaningful Chat With An Absolute Stranger. "Though dude, I can kind of tell that the one you're holding now could be summed up with a straightforward 'this is all about girls in bikinis.'"

Toris took a look at the book he was holding and nearly dropped it as his eyes met a lot of skin. He put it carefully back in place, his face turning a hot shade of red. Alfred laughed, leaning back against the shelf.

"I'll come straight out with it: what's your number?"

Toris flinched, his cheeks turning an even darker red. Alfred was starting to get a bit worried – was the guy burning up? Toris seemed to be struggling to find words.

"Er… you seem an awfully nice guy, Alfred, I'm very flattered, but I'm not sure I swing that way, and I have to get to know a person well to see if I would want to-"

Alfred exploded in a fit of laughter. He had to recover and wipe tears from his eyes before answering Toris.

"Dude, _no!_ I'm not asking you out! Oh man…" He looked Toris up and down. "No offense. You are pretty cute though." As Toris's blush somehow deepened, Alfred added, "And if you go any redder, I'm gonna have to make you sit down somewhere with your head between your knees."

Toris looked away bashfully. Alfred felt a bit guilty for teasing someone so timid.

"Hey, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm just really bad at reading the atmosphere at times… make that nearly all the time." He gave a reassuring smile. "I actually just wanted your number so we could maybe hang out sometime, because you seem a cool guy and someone I wanna be friends with." Toris finally smiled again, but he rubbed the back of his head self-consciously.

"I'm not sure anyone could ever describe me as 'cool', but thank you." He added in a quiet voice, "It's nice to make a new friend."

Alfred's face lit up at the word 'friend'. "Awesome! Can you type it in for me?" He handed Toris his phone. "Are you on Facebook?" Toris shook his head.

"I'm not allowed Facebook," he said regretfully. Alfred raised his eyebrows.

"Why? How come someone's still dictating your life? You're… how old are you anyway?" Toris appeared to process all these questions before opting to answer the last one.

"I'm nineteen."

"Hey, we're the same age! Doesn't life suck at our age? We're expected to act oh-so-mature yet no one trusts us. Anyway, can't you just go and do what you want anyway and just ignore all these restrictions? The day I started ignoring my parents was my first day of freedom." At Toris's alarmed expression, he laughed. "No, I don't do bad stuff – I just stay up later than I'm supposed to and ignore their rules about how much chocolate I should eat." The Lithuanian chuckled politely at this. "So why not?"

"It's another thing I'm not supposed to talk about," Toris said, again looking apologetic. "And if I act out, there are… consequences." He shrugged and smiled. "It doesn't matter if I have a mobile anyway. Here's my number." He handed the phone back to Alfred. Alfred smiled back at him. Then he remembered the time.

"Shoot! I'd better be getting back to work in a sec. We've been chatting for longer than I thought!" Toris smiled.

"So you're a rule-breaker, huh?"

"A lifelong rebel, that's me," Alfred said proudly. "Anyhow, I'll call you sometime! It was really nice to meet ya, Toris!"

Toris nodded quickly in agreement.

"Yes, you too, Alfred. Enjoy work!" Alfred made a face.

"Think through that one again, buddy. It's 'work.' But hey, I'll try!" He waved his new friend goodbye, walking with a new spring in his step.

As Alfred walked to the garage where he worked, his step lost its spring. The garage stood as it always had, giving no impression apart from obstinate plainness. He ran a hand through his blond hair, exhaling deeply. He drifted over to his open toolbox and picked up a spanner, looking at it with complete disinterest.

"Right," he sighed. "Time for another adventure."

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter is dedicated to new friends we make in funny ways :) Thank you for reading! Hope you liked this chapter.**


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